


I can't sing a love song like the way it's meant to be

by itreads



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, i cried, lots and lots of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 05:32:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12499884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itreads/pseuds/itreads
Summary: Will is the most selfless camper at Camp Half-Blood, if you ask most people. He's honest and kind, he's the head healer in the infirmary, he saves lives - really and truly selfless.But Will holds a secret. And for that, he's the most selfish of them all.Alternatively, The Four Times Will Didn't Sing (And The One Time He Did)





	I can't sing a love song like the way it's meant to be

**Author's Note:**

> Proceed with caution

**(Prologue)**

"Will, honey? Are you nearly ready? We need to leave soon!" Naomi Solace called up the stairs to her son.

"Nearly!" he called back, hopping around his room on one foot, pulling a sock onto the other. Nerves were starting to build up over the excitement he'd been harbouring for weeks, months, years. Ever since he'd started going along to his mom's gigs, he'd wanted to join in, and now he was finally getting the chance.

He raced down the stairs, jittery and shaking, running through the song again (and again) in his head. He'd picked Bon Jovi's  _Always_ , because he liked the way the sounds curled around his tongue and it reminded him of when he was younger, when his mom and he would dance to it in the kitchen. (Or rather, he would dance to it and his mother would sit, gazing at him with that look she always adopted whenever he sang along to the radio.)

Naomi beamed at him as he entered the room. "Excited?"

He nodded. "And nervous." He held his shaking hands up to show her.

"You'll be fine," she reassured him, before picking up her car keys and heading out the front door.

Will was silent in the car. He was too nervous to say more than a few words, and Naomi disliked having the car radio on when she drove (she said it was distracting). He wrung his hands on his lap, over and over.

The journey was only five minutes, and despite the nerves, Will was beginning to feel excited again. It was just like all the other gigs he went to. Just the same.

Except it wasn't. This time, he was singing too.

He would sing half way through Naomi's set, to give her a break. He watched from the front of the crowd as she set up.

Naomi was an amazing singer, but it was never enough to get her noticed by anyone except for Will's father. Naomi said he fell for her voice, not her, and that's why they never worked.

(Sometimes, Will dreamt that if his mom sang loud enough, his father would hear from wherever he was and come rushing back into her arms, realising he was wrong to leave her all those years ago. He never did, though.)

Will didn't sing along to his mother's songs - he never did, preferring to listen to the way her accent crept through her words, the way her heart and soul went into every word. She was beautiful when she sang, more beautiful than usual.

Then it was Will's turn, and he stepped up onto the small, makeshift stage with his heart in his throat. His mother smiled at him and patted his shoulder, then went to find a table to sit at.

Will scanned the crowd. He recognised most of the people there: they were the regulars who followed his mom round like she was a superstar (she was, in Will's eyes). The new kid with the crutches from school was there, too, which was weird. He smiled and gave him a little wave anyway.

Someone pressed a button on a tape player and the backing music started. Will took a deep breath, then sang.

He closed his eyes against the crowd, to start with, focussing entirely on his words. Then, as his confidence picked up, he opened them, and what he found made his heart race faster than the nerves.

Something was wrong. The crowd was silent, each and every one of them focussing their full attention on him, on his music. It seemed as if no one was breathing, and that scared him.

He recognised the look. It was the look his mom had whenever he sang.

(Will had never sung in front of anyone else before.)

There was a loud crash from outside. No one even so much as flinched.

Will kept singing.

The crowd started to move, standing, creeping towards the stage, towards him, slowly. The crashes from outside got louder, but no one noticed. It was as if Will was the only one left in the world who could hear.

(Maybe if he sang loud enough, his father would hear from wherever he was and come and rescue him from the crashes and the crowd. But his voice got quieter, smaller.)

The door burst open, and a huge, lumpy figure stood in the doorway. Will finally stopped singing, choked with fear.

It took everyone a few seconds to wake from their trance, but when they did, total chaos broke loose.

Will didn't have time to get caught up in it, though, because his mom grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side, her eyes wide with fear.

"Will, you need to listen to me, honey, you need to run. Do you hear me? Run. Go with Laurel, he knows the way. Will, honey, I love you so much. I love you."

"Mom?" he asked, not sure what else to say. He was crying, scared, no, terrified. More terrified than he'd ever been before. He didn't understand what his mom was saying.

"Will, honey, I love you, but you need to go." She was crying, too, but Laurel, the new kid with crutches was here, tugging on Will's hand, and she let go.

"I love you!" She called as he was pulled through the door and out onto the chaotic street. "I love you!" As if it explained everything.

"Where are we-" Will started, turning to Laurel beside him. He'd ditched the crutches and was now running free, faster than Will, who was having trouble keeping pace.

"No time to explain," Laurel said, as if that was enough of an answer.

Will tried to stop, but Laurel held tight onto his wrist, pulling him along.

"But-" Will tried one more time, but Laurel interrupted.

"Just run, Will. I'll tell you everything when we get to safety."

They ran through the evening and into the night, until Will thought he would never be able to breathe again. They ran to a grove in the woods, where Laurel stopped and immediately began to set up camp.

Will sat down, wishing he had some water to drink (he'd used up all his water crying. Now, he'd used up all his tears, too).

"Tell me," he said, once he'd got his breath back. "Tell me everything."

Laurel looked around uncomfortably, trying to light a match and turn the pile of twigs on the ground into a fire.

"I'm not sure you'd understand..." He muttered, finally getting a spark. Will drew closer, attempting to find some warmth.

"Tell me anyway," he said.

"Well..." Laurel started, then he took a deep breath and continued. "I'm taking you to a place called Camp Half-Blood. It's a special place for people like you. People who..."

"Who what?" Will asked impatiently.

"You father is a god. A Greek god. I know this sounds pretty unbelievable right now, but it explains quite a few things, like back there when everyone was completely hooked on your voice. That's one of your powers, Will - you'll have more, too. You'll probably find them out with a bit more training - that's what Camp Half-Blood is for."

Will leaned back, thinking on this. If his father was a god... What did that make him?

"Who is my father," he asked, but it was more of a demand, a statement.

"I can't tell," Laurel replied offhandedly. "Maybe Aphrodite..."

Will scrunched his nose. "But she's a _girl_."

"So she'd be your second mother, then." Laurel looked over Will's hair, his face, his eyes. "But then... maybe not. Like I said, I can't really tell. You'll have to wait until you're claimed."

Will didn't say anything - he was having trouble processing all the new information.

After a few minutes of silence, Laurel asked, "So when did you find out you could do that with your voice? I've never seen that skill before, not with singing."

Will said, "Today."

"Oh."

"It was terrifying. I don't understand."

"It's just one of your powers - you'll get used to it." Laurel lay down, using a pile of soft leaves as a pillow. "You should get some sleep."

Instead, Will said, "I don't want to get used to it. I don't want to force people to listen to me - to control them." He looked to the starry sky, tears in his eyes. "I don't ever want to sing again."

And he didn't.

 

* * *

 

 

**(Aged 12, New York City)**

Will Solace did not cry.

He did not scream.

He did not fling himself into the sun. He did not fling himself into the sea. He did not take his own life there and then, following his brothers into the Underworld.

However much he wanted to do all these things, he kept walking.

The streets were littered with bodies floating in a sea of blood. Will was used to the smell, working in a hospital, but not this strong, and it made him want to throw up.

(He had a lump in his throat.)

He stopped at the bodies, one by one, healing what could be healed, leaving what could not. There was no time. For every tear he cried, another wounded soldier would die.

(He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. It was the first he'd bled since the start of the battle.)

The next body was dying. Dying, not dead. He could help, he could save her, but not alone. He called out.

"Help! She needs help!"

( _I need help!_ )

But no one answered. Will knelt down, taking hold of her hand.

He should cry. (His tears had healing powers.) But he was dry, done. He couldn't.

Someone knelt down beside him, taking the girl's other hand. Will looked up.

"She's going, Will," Nico di Angelo said softly. "I can feel it."

Will felt choked. "I can help her." ( _Can you help me?_ )

"No, you can't." ( _I can't_ _. But I'll go with you._ )

Will looked away as the girl's eyes went glassy.

He stood up and moved on to the next body, this time with Nico by his side. But Nico couldn't do anything. He was exhausted, carrying the weight of every soul that passed. (Carrying the weight of every one of Will's failures.)

Will was exhausted, too. He needed help, medical hands, but Lee and Michael were gone and there was no one else, no one listening.

Of course, there was a way he could  _make_ them listen. Force them, control them. Would it be wrong, if he did it for the greater good?

But he kept his mouth shut, his voice closed. He kept moving.

 

* * *

 

 

**(Aged 12, Camp Half-blood)**

Will was now the head of the Apollo cabin, by no choice of his own. He didn't want to be, but Lee and Michael were gone and there was no one else.

(Will cried for them, when he was alone. At night, in the infirmary, in the shower. He cried for everyone. He cried for weeks.)

He was alone, and no one would _listen_.

It was a lot harder to organise the campers than Will had thought, especially in a cabin as big as Apollo. And he had to organise the infirmary rota, and he had to organise activities, and he had to organise his own life, and _no one would listen_.

And yet. (And yet.) Will didn't sing. He knew that in the Aphrodite cabin, charmspeak was used daily. He knew if others knew, they'd encourage him to use his voice.

 _"You could hold back armies,"_ he imagined them saying. _"We could have won the war in half the time. Don't you think you're being selfish? All those people, kids, they died because of you. It was all your fault."_

(Will cried, when he was alone.)

(No one would listen.)

Nico di Angelo would listen, if he was here. But there was another war coming, and Nico was playing his part.

(Will was playing his part, too, as a healer - the best healer the camp had ever had - even if the others couldn't see it. Even if _he_ couldn't see it.)

_"You could hold back armies."_

But he didn't want to. He'd vowed not to. And he was scared. (So, so scared.)

 

* * *

 

 

**(Aged 15, Camp Half-Blood)**

The war with Gaea was over, and Camp Half-Blood was slowly making its way back to normality.

For Will, it was a good time. He was finally used to dealing with the Apollo cabin and the infirmary at the same time (even if he was losing out on sleep because of his shifts), and although there wasn't a day gone by where he didn't miss his brothers, he was starting to see the sunshine in other things, like his siblings and his friends.

And Nico, who didn't fit into either category. Nico. Will wasn't entirely sure what they were, but they spent almost every day together and Will got this electric feeling whenever their hands accidentally brushed. (He'd never got this feeling before, but he was pretty sure he knew what it was.)

He wasn't happy - he was a demigod, they never were - but he felt, for the first time in five years, like he knew how to be.

It had been a particularly good day in the infirmary, and Will had decided to go the the evening's campfire, something he didn't do often. Nico joined him, sitting next to him and holding his hand. (Will's brain went all mushy. He was glad it was dark.)

The Apollo cabin - Austin, to be precise - lead the campfire songs, as per usual. Will smiled and nodded, swaying slightly. He'd learnt not to sing or even hum along, growing out of an old habit pretty fast.

No one really questioned it, his inability to sing. His siblings knew he got touchy whenever they mentioned it, and, well, he was never at the campfire enough for anyone else to know he didn't sing.

Until now.

"Hey, Will, why don't you sing us a song for a change?"

Drew Tanaka. Will didn't hate her, but she could be annoying at times.

(Plus, she'd never really gotten over the time he turned her down. She'd never really gotten over _him_.)

"Yeah, you never sing!" someone else called out, but Will didn't recognise who.

"Uh, no thanks, guys," he said as calm as he could. "I don't sing."

"He's probably lying!" And gods, Will had never hurt anyone before but he could really punch that guy right now.

"Yeah, I think he has a beautiful voice that he's hiding from us."

"Nope," Will said again, and he didn't notice he'd squeezed Nico's hand until Nico squeezed back. "I don't sing."

The Apollo kids began to eye each other nervously, knowing this couldn't end well if everyone kept pushing.

"Are you kidding? You're a son of Apollo, of course you can sing!"

And then. (And then.)

"Don't you think you're being selfish?"

( _Those kids, they died because of you. It's all you fault. They died. You could have held back armies. It's your fault._ )

_No, no, no, no, nononononono NO!_

Will stood up and left.

He wasn't a runner (he was a pretty useless son of Apollo, now that he thought about it) but he ran then. He ran through the campfire, he ran past the cabins, he ran along the edge of the woods until he reached the beach.

He ran until he couldn't run any more, until his tears choked away his breath, until he fell to his knees on the dusty sand. This was not how he wanted his day to go.

He curled up into a ball (a ball of fire, a sun, _Dear Apollo, why did I have to be yours?_ ) and sobbed into his hands.

Someone knelt down beside him. (Nico, will you stay with me even if I'm broken? Even if I'm a failure as a demigod?)

Nico knelt down beside him and talked.

"Will," he said (he never called him Will, only Solace. Why now, of all times, did Will choose to hear the way the sound flowed from Nico's tongue?). "You - you are one of the most amazing people I've ever met. You're so kind and honest and selfless. I don't know how you do it."

(I don't. Can't you see that I'm living a lie?)

"We all have secrets, and that doesn't make us bad people. It just makes us people, Will, we're imperfect and we're _human._ "

(We're demigods, and I was meant to be better than that.)

"It's okay, whatever you're hiding. It's okay that you have secrets too."

Will sat up, slowly, but he couldn't bring himself to look at Nico, not yet, not while he didn't have any control over himself.

"I know a guy," Nico continued. "He's a wonderful guy. He once told me what I just told you, that it's okay to be hiding, but he also told me that I don't have to. He gave me someone to talk to."

(That was Will. Isn't it funny how his words could be turned on him in an instant?) He finally looked up at Nico, at the galaxies he held in his eyes. There was pain there - pain, and something else.

"He gave me a lot of things. He gave me hope. Will, you gave me hope, you give me hope every day, every hour, and for that, I'm so, so grateful." Nico's eyes were glistening, reflecting the moon and the stars and the sea and the fire and _everything_ , and Will couldn't help himself any longer.

He leant over and pressed his lips to Nico's, tasting the food Nico ate mixed with his own tears mixed with Nico, breathing in his breath, feeling and tasting and being.

Nico drew back, and for one terrifying moment, Will feared that he'd messed up, got it wrong. But he saw Nico and the thought was banished, cast away on a whisper of wind.

Nico touched his forehead to Will's and said, "I've been hiding for so long," and Will knew what he meant.

(I've been hiding too.)

(I still am hiding, Nico.)

(I want to sing to you.)

But he shouldn't and he couldn't and he didn't.

 

* * *

 

 

**(Aged 15, Cabin Thirteen)**

Will was with Nico in the Hades cabin, in private. Now that it had got out that they were dating, privacy was something that they didn't come by very often.

Dating Nico was somehow everything and nothing like Will had imagined it to be. Outside, where people could see them, they were lively - Nico helped him in the infirmary, they sat together at meal times (doctor's orders, Will said), they held hands and laughed and left little butterfly kisses on each other's cheeks. But in the privacy of the Hades cabin, the only place they could be alone, their hours were filled with silence and soft hands and tears.

(They had both been through two wars. They had both loved and lost and not seen their mothers in a long time. There was no way they could still be fine.)

It was in one of those silences that Will said, quietly, "I want to sing to you."

Nico turned his head to properly face Will, confused. "You can," he said softly. "If you want to."

"I can't," Will said, the sounds barely there. "I want to and I can't." (And I've been hiding, Nico, hiding even from you. It's killing me.)

Nico waited for Will to explain. Will took a deep breath.

"I came here, to Camp Half-Blood, when I was ten. I left my mother in a rush." (I didn't even say goodbye.) (I never told her I loved her.) "I- I was at one of her gigs, and she'd let me join in. For the first time, she let me sing a song of my own, up on the stage, in front of a hundred people."

Nico leant into Will, encasing him in warmth and love.

"I didn't realise anything was wrong, at first. But then... I opened my eyes, and it was like a spell had been cast. Like I'd cast the spell. They were all transfixed, barely breathing. I was controlling them, they weren't even their own people any more."

He took another deep, shaky breath. "I stopped singing, and the spell was broken, but I'd attracted a monster. I had to leave with Laurel, the satyr who'd been watching over me." (So quickly I didn't have time to think about my mom. I didn't even say goodbye. I never told her I loved her.)

"It's really rare that Apollo children get this ability. I looked it up - the last known case was in the 16th century. It's usually only Apollo himself who can hypnotise people with his voice.

"I vowed that day that I would never sing again, never control people like that. I focussed all my time and energy on learning to be a doctor - because what good is a son of Apollo if he can't sing and can't heal? I haven't sung since."

Will looked round to where Nico was staring at him, sat up now, his warmth no longer on Will. He looked shocked.

"I miss it so much, sometimes," he said. (I miss her.) (I didn't even say goodbye.)

Nico brought his hands up to cup Will's face, comforting. He didn't say anything, but his eyes were enough. They shared a kiss, long and knowing and saying everything they didn't say out loud.

_I want to sing to you._

_But you can't._

_And now you understand why._

_I love you, Will._

_I love you too._

And his heart was singing.

 

* * *

 

 

**(Aged 15, Camp Half-Blood)**

They say you feel it in your heart, when it happens, but for Will, that wasn't the case.

Will felt it in his blood and his bones and his soul. Will felt it  _everywhere_. (And he was so glad for that, because otherwise he'd have been too late.) (He wouldn't even have got to say goodbye.) (He never said he loved him.)

Before the screams started, before anyone came to tell him, he dropped everything and ran.

Nico was at the edge of the woods, laying down on a bed of grass and dew, clutching his side. His breath came slower and slower with every wincing second. His hands shook, transparent.

Will didn't know what to do. (He knew exactly what to do.) He got there and flung himself to the ground, kneeling beside Nico, grasping, clutching him, trying to hold onto his life with his own hands.

There was a crowd, a circle of curious campers around them, all trying to figure out how to help. (Will knew how to help.)

"Give them some space!" someone called, and yes, Will needed space, he needed everyone else out of earshot, but there was no time and Nico's eyes had already closed against the pain of losing someone he loved. (But he wouldn't, couldn't lose Will, because Will would follow Nico wherever he went.)

(And for that, Will was the most selfish of them all.)

Will didn't have time to think, so he picked the one song on his mind. (It had been on his mind every day since the incident, every day for five years - he'd rehearsed it so much, how could he forget it?)

_This Romeo is bleeding, but you can't see his blood_

And the entire world listened, but Will didn't stop - he couldn't, he had to get through the whole song, had to save Nico.

His voice wasn't raspy from lack of use - how could it? It was magic, a curse.

He could feel hearts shattering around him, people falling for him, and he knew he'd have to explain himself, but right now he couldn't care because he wanted Nico back, Nico alive, Nico with him.

Tears were falling down Will's cheeks, too, and suddenly he was singing for everything he'd lost.

 _Well, there ain't no luck in these loaded dice_  
_But baby, if you give me just one more try_  
_We can pack up our old dreams, and our old lives,_  
_We'll find a place, where the sun still shines_

There are good powers and bad powers. Sometimes the good powers are used for bad things, but the bad powers can only ever be used for selfish things, and Will was so, so selfish.

He finished the song with a final choke, then broke down sobbing. He had nothing left to give. He was all used up, exhausted, and he had to hope it was enough.

In the seconds of silence that followed, he prayed to every god he'd ever heard of.

_Father, I've been nothing but ungrateful for this power, but please, I'm begging you, just this one time I need it to work._

_Hades, this is your son. He's doing so well, and he's already lost so much. Please._

_To anyone else that's listening, please. Please._

He wanted to scream. The seconds stretched until he wasn't sure if it had been minutes or hours. The silence that had settled over the camp was like a fog, heavy and suffocating.

Will held his breath. Everyone held their breath.

And then. A cough. A splutter. So small, it could have been imagined.

Will gasped. Nico's eyes fluttered open, and  _oh_ , there was also much pain and so much love in that moment that Will barely knew what to do.

So he grasped and clutched and held on some more, and Nico sat up, his entire life in Will's hands. Will couldn't seem to keep his hands still, pushing and feeling and being sure that it was Nico, that Nico was here, that Nico was alive.

"Will," Nico breathed.

"I sang to you," Will said. "I sang to you, I sang to you," like a mantra, a chant. A song.

Will knew that he was never letting go again. He knew there would be questions from everyone, repercussions, people who would want him to use his voice.

But for now, Nico was alive, and that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Why Do I Do This To Myself


End file.
